


Bright Light

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, the vaguest of the vague pairings, wordvomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which yoongi's ridiculousness is hilarious, until it isn't anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Light

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just so sick of looking at this, so here you go.

Hoseok wasn't sure what was funnier: the fact that Yoongi thought he was in control of every single aspect of his life, or how (sometimes hysterically) untrue his illusion was. Hoseok had known a few so-called _tsundere_ people over the course of his life but god, Yoongi still took the cake. He was so sure of his control over himself and the people around him, so convinced he ruled them while at the same time being secretively, desperately aching for their approval and love that... Well, it was pathetic, anyway. Almost pitiful. Pretty hilarious.

At that moment, Yoongi was scowling very darkly at a rack of cakes like they'd murdered his mother and he was contemplating the best method of ending their delicious lives.

“This isn't rocket science,” Hoseok said. Yoongi flapped one hand dismissively and continued frowning. “ _Hyeong,_ ” Hoseok complained, making sure to draw out his accent for Maximum Annoyance.

“Look, if you're not going to help just leave,” Yoongi said. “You've got legs.”

“You will be here for literally the next ten thousand years,” Hoseok replied. “It's a birthday cake! No one cares! Just _pick one._ ”

“It's _important,_ ” Yoongi snapped, waving a list held in his hand. “I know what I'm doing!”

“What _ever,_ ” Hoseok groaned and went to sit down in the small cafe area of the bakery to wait it out. He had his coffee (iced white cappuchino) his scone (cranberry) and his phone, he could entertain himself for a while and with any luck Yoongi would figure this out quickly and they could go home. Not that Hoseok didn't like the place. The opposite was true. The bakery was neat and tidy, everything in clean lines with pretty lace designs, and one of their specialty cakes and coffees came with _lace sugar_ on top. There had to be something about the inherent temporariness that appealed to Yoongi (and probably Namjoon too, actually). Well, that and all the pastels, but Hoseok had sworn on his life to never tell _anyone_ about Yoongi's obsession with pastels, so he tried not to notice it too much, less he accidentally end his life while hanging out with their friends that evening.

The whole cake thing wasn't that important. Yes, it was Jimin's 21st birthday. Yes, they were all going to have a party but Seokjin had, in all probability, already made a cake: but Jimin was also Yoongi's roommate so of course he wanted to get him a cake and of course he was going to obsess over it because he was _Yoongi,_ and obsession was what he did, and Jimin had been his roommate for all of Jimin's years at college. But Jimin was also moving out after he graduated in three months or so and Hoseok didn't even want to _think_ about what that would do to his older friend. He had a sneaking suspicion Yoongi was a litle in love with Jimin but never dared to breathe a word of it.

He tucked his chin in his hand and watched Yoongi look back and forth between the list and the cakes for another thirty-five minutes before he finally picked one, still not looking very sure of the decision. He had it boxed up and smiled tightly as he took it, heading for the door.

“Ah, hyung, wait up,” Hoseok said, jogging after him as he headed out into the street. He did remember to throw a poisonous look at the woman who had been 'helping' Yoongi, who had basically stood there glaring at him as he wrote in a card and counted out exact change for her, like taking his money was some kind of chore or he was hard on the eyes or something. Whatever. “What did you get?”

“None of your business,” Yoongi sulked, holding the box against his chest and walking to his car, parked one street over. “Don't you have a job to go to or something.”

“You know I took the day off,” Hoseok said, sliding into the front seat and offering his arms for the cake with his most winning grin. Yoongi scowled and Hoseok reminded himself that this was a man who used light pink bath towels and slept in baby-yellow sheets and he was not _that_ frightening.

“Hold that,” Yoongi said, giving him the box and Hoseok smiled a little, tugged on his seatbelt and waited for Yoongi to get into the car before asking,

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Cleaning, I guess,” he said. “The place is a mess, I figured I'd... Get it cleaned up for tonight.”

Jimin's party was that night. He'd insisted on having it at their apartment and Hoseok thought that was kind of cruel of him; he knew he'd done it to guarantee that Yoongi would be there, but Yoongi hated loud noises and people and people drinking, so it was more than likely he'd spend the entire time in his room with his headphones on, working on whatever project he was tinkering with when he wasn't doing post-production shit on the films he did music for. Hoseok wasn't really sure of what that all was; Yoongi was intensely private about his work, and even worked under a pseudonym, so it was all a mystery. Which probably added to the _dark and brooding stranger_ thing he had going on. Though how people fell for that, Hoseok had no clue, especially since Yoongi didn't really have the _tall_ part of that stereotype going for him.

“You gonna want help?”

“Nope.”

“Can I come over anyway?”

“Just stay out of the way.”

Hoseok had known Yoongi for long enough to know it was as close as he would come to admitting he didn't mind his company. Even when he was going to be meticulously cleaning every inch of the apartment until the tiles were shiny and the hardwood floors were so polished they looked new, he didn't mind if Hoseok just stayed in the space, just like he hadn't when they were younger and less comfortable with one another than they were now. Hoseok had thought about offering to take Yoongi up on the roommate thing, when he'd first put out an ad for it, but then he'd thought about his obsessive cleaning and neatness, his regimented schedule and planned menu and decided that maybe it would be better for him to leave his own chaotic life untangled from his poor friends, since it would probably just give him a heart attack to live in the same space. He didn't think Yoongi had OCD, it was just that he was so incredibly attentive to detail that he sometimes missed the bigger picture. But, to that effect, Yoongi might let him help. Load the dishwasher or something, although he'd probably insist on doing them by hand instead. _That thing doesn't clean well enough for me,_ he always said, which Hoseok claimed negated the point of having a dishwasher in the first place. But if Yoongi wanted to do all the dishes by hand and Jimin didn't seem to mind that Yoongi did all the dishes again after they'd been run through the washer, to each their own.

The apartment that overlooked campus was very nice. Large, open-plan, big windows. Yoongi had been looking for a roommate while he worked on his masters and how a soft little bun like Jimin had been lucky enough to land there, Hoseok still wasn't sure. Probably _because_ Jimin was soft and sunny and tolerant and absolutely not put off by the way Yoongi tended to interact with new people in grunts and hand motions and scowling. Yoongi didn't even seem to care that Jimin only paid into the utilities and food instead of rent. _The kid can't afford it, with his job_ he'd said, but Hoseok had a suspicion it was because Yoongi could more than afford the place and he'd just wanted a roommate so he wouldn't be so fucking lonely all the time, not that he'd ever admit to being lonely in the first place. And maybe somewhere in the depth of Hoseok's heart he was a little bit jealous that he wasn't able to do that for Yoongi, even though he was glad Jimin _was._

Hoseok didn't want to think about what was going to happen when Jimin moved out. He'd been talking to Hoseok about it for a few months, just bringing it up casually with a _don't tell hyung_ disclaimer like he was going to change his mind and stay. But Jimin was dating Jeon Jeongguk and there was no way in fresh hell that they weren't moving in together, sooner rather than later. Hoseok knew Yoongi was suspicious of Jeongguk at best, outright disliked him at worst; not that he would ever say a bad word about him. He never did. It just showed when they were all together and Yoongi would screw his jaw or grind his teeth, breathe in slow through his nose and clench his hands. Hoseok knew people, and Yoongi gave away his feelings just as much as other people did. He knew Yoongi thought Jeongguk was stealing Jimin away and in a lot of ways that was true. But Yoongi had said it himself, when confronted with whether or not he was going to let Jimin rent a room in his apartment forever: _he's a big kid. When he's ready, he'll go_.

It hurt Hoseok's heart a little. He watched Yoongi move through the kitchen, a well-oiled machine of neatness and cleanliness and bleach. “Here,” Yoongi said, giving him a bottle of blue glass cleaner and paper towels. “Go do the windows and the balcony doors.”

“Yes boss!” Hoseok chirped, heading down the long space to do just that. Better to be busy so he could stop thinking about being worried about Yoongi, and start thinking about being excited for Jimin's birthday.

~

“I feel kind of bad,” Jimin was saying, his hand on his third glass of something Taehyung had called a _salty dog._ Hoseok eyed the glass suspiciously as Jimin offered it out to him, smiling a little. “Hyung locked himself in his room.”

“You know he hates parties,” Hoseok said, taking a sip and immediately regretting it, puckering his mouth and squeezing his eyes closed. “Oh god, that's _awful._ What is _in_ that?”

“Really? I like it. Taehyung said it's, uh, gin and grapefruit juice. And salt! On the rim,” Jimin said. “I thought I'd take one to Yoongi-hyung but he won't open his door. D'you think he's mad at me?”

Hoseok looked at Jimin, flushed with happiness and tipsiness and all sorts of _nesses,_ his dark hair in his pretty eyes and his sweet smile small on his lips. “Of course not,” he said, and that was the truth, he was sure. “You know he doesn't like this sort of stuff.” Jimin also knew that Yoongi didn't drink, but he'd probably forgotten that detail by now, all the specifics quietly hazy around the edges.

“I should'a done it somewhere else, huh, like... Like Jeonggukkie's place. But then he _really_ wouldn't have come. He hates Jeongguk, you know.”

“Well... Maybe a little,” Hoseok said, and Jimin's face fell, his eyes turning down towards his drink. “Jimin, Jiminnie, I don't think he's mad at you! I don't think he's mad. He's never been good at crowds, you know he's not, and it's really crowded in here. He'll come out later!”

“I'll be drunk, then,” Jimin said like he wasn't already intoxicated, his lisp and accent pronounced. “I don't want hyung to see me drunk. Maybe I'll go home with Jeongguk. But I mean I'll clean up first. I'll clean up so he doesn't, doesn't have to.”

Remembering the cake, still in it's box in the fridge, picked out and decorated that morning, Hoseok swallowed. “I think you should stay home,” he said, but Jimin shook his head, pushed the drink into Hoseok's hands. “Jimin—”

“M'gonna go start cleaning up,” he said, and Hoseok didn't bother trying to stop him. Seokjin had already taken away the remains of his cake, so all there was to do was put the food away, but people were still eating, so of course Jimin found himself swept away in a crowd of people laughing and talking and congratulating him on his early graduation. Hoseok watched, and felt a bit like he was watching the ending credits of a tv show and not a life he was participating in and he wondered if Yoongi felt that way, locked away on the other side of his bedroom door.

The drink in his hand tasted horrible, but he had two more of them before he fell asleep in the corner of the couch, cheek resting in his hand.

~

Hoseok woke to the sound of rustling plastic. He jerked up and was surprised to find the room empty, save for himself and for Yoongi, who was walking around the room and quietly picking up cups and bottles, bringing them to the sink to dump them out, throwing them away, repeating the process.

“Hyung,” he said, and Yoongi didn't look up from where he was standing over the sink, rinsing out a beer bottle with a lime slice stuck in it. “Hey, you're awake?”

“It's past nine,” Yoongi replied, his voice flat. “Of course I'm awake.”

Hoseok watched him for a few long minutes. Watched Yoongi rinse out bottles while trying not to gag. The windows were open to let in the cool fall air, a pair of candles sat burning on the coffee table and Hoseok recalled a distant memory of Yoongi sitting on the far end of a bar bench with his sprite and notebook, hunched over as he scribbled, _I don't like the smell of alcohol,_ he'd said, and when Taehyung had asked why, _I just don't,_ like he said every time someone asked.

But there he was, rinsing out bottles and putting them into the recycling container, though some of the more eccentric bottles were left on the counter, labels carefully peeled off. Jimin collected bottles, liked to fill them with knick knacks he collected (he'd been a magpie in another life, Yoongi had concluded and told Hoseok during one particularly eventful afternoon of watching Jimin pick up small white stones in the park) and Yoongi indulged him in that the way he indulged him in almost everything else, no matter what the cleanup was afterward. He was throwing away red solo cups on top of leftover food that smelled truly heinous as Hoseok got up to help him, if he'd be allowed to help. There was a curious tension in Yoongi's back that probably had nothing to do with the mess he was sweeping away and Hoseok thought about asking, before it occurred to him.

“Is Jiminnie in his room?”

“No,” Yoongi said. “He went to Jeongguk's last night. He left a note on my door.”

“Oh,” Hoseok said, eyes darting to the fridge.

“You should probably go,” Yoongi said. “You're going to be late for work.”

“It's not till eleven,” Hoseok replied. “I've got time.”

“It's quarter of ten,” Yoongi said. “So no, you don't.”

He really didn't. Hoseok gathered up his bag and jacket and hesitated at the door. “I'll come back later?”

“If you want.”

It wasn't quiet an invitation back to the apartment but Hoseok was going to pretend that it was, as he waved and smiled and headed out to the studio, where he was teaching the cast of _Singin in the Rain_ all the tap steps they needed to know.

~

Yoongi's car wasn't in it's parking space when he got to the apartment building after work. Hoseok knocked on the door and it was Jimin who opened it with a _hyung_ on his lips, his eyes red and swollen. “Hey, hey woah,” Hoseok said, frowning as Jimin turned away and rubbed at his face with his arm. “What's wrong, Jimin? What happened?”

“Did you know hyung got me a cake?” Jimin asked, his voice vaguely accusatory and Hoseok blinked.

“Yeah, he put it in the fridge when he came home yesterday. Why, he dig into it without you?”

“Because it was in th—in the _trash,_ ” Jimin said, rubbing at his eye with one hand. “It was in the _trash_ hyung.”

Bypassing the question of why it was Jimin was even looking in the trash (who the fuck knew? Maybe he was looking for more pretty bottles) Hoseok swallowed and thought about the tenseness in Yoongi's back, the hard lines of his neck, _you're going to be late for work._ “Oh,” he said, and wasn't surprised when Jimin started crying, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to prevent it.

“He bought me a cake, it, it was _strawberry,_ there was a chocolate card on it, hyung, he got it especially _for me—_ ” Hoseok remembered the list in Yoongi's hand. Things Jimin couldn't have or didn't like, things that would upset the careful balance of his very picky stomach. Yoongi had sat at the table to make the list but Hoseok hadn't thought much of it. Yoongi made lists all the time, it was some part of his control problem.

“He got it for me and I didn't even _eat_ it, I didn't even _see it,_ hyung _threw it away._ ”

“Ah, Jiminah,” Hoseok started, but Jimin was already walking back to the counter where the somewhat crumpled cakebox was sitting, unfolded to reveal the partially squashed strawberry cake with the whipped icing Jimin liked so much spread across it, what must have been rose dollops around the top with slices of strawberries and yes, a chocolate card in the center. The writing was smeared but unmistakably Yoongi's, tight and meticulous like everything else about him.

_Happy Birthday, Jiminah! Hyung Will Always Take Care of You, so Be Good to Yourself._

“He got me a cake,” Jimin said, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. The apartment, Hoseok noticed, was practically sparkling. The trash from that morning had been taken out, the curtains re-hung, the entire kitchen area bleached clean. “I didn't even say thank you.”

“You can't really thank him for something you don't know about,” Hoseok said, attempting to comfort Jimin as the young man sat at the counter with his head in his hands, just staring at the cake like it held the answers to every question he'd ever asked and if he looked at it long enough he'd be able to see them. “Jimin.”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin started. “Asked me to move in with him last night. Officially.” Hoseok nodded, grabbed a stool and pulled it around to the opposite side of the counter, so he and Jimin could face one another. “Before I _actually_ graduate. Like... Within the next couple of weeks.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I wanted to, of course,” Jimin said. “But I'm just— I'm so worried about hyung. He won't... He's not gonna take it very well.”

“He never takes anything very well,” Hoseok reminded, glad when Jimin gave him a choked-off laugh. This wasn't the end of his world and he shouldn't feel like it was.

“You know what I mean,” Jimin said. “He's so... Delicate. I just don't want him to think, I mean, I just. I feel like I'm _abandoning_ him.”

“I'm sure he'll understand,” Hoseok said, and while he wasn't sure that was true, he was certain there was no way Yoongi was going to let it show that it bothered him. Not where anyone could see him, anyway. That was part of why the cake was in the trash, that was part of why he wasn't at the apartment. He was probably at his office, working away his feelings like he usually did until he could deny their existence with enough confidence that he didn't look like he was faking it. The reminder that Yoongi's feelings were too intense for real life and weren't always hilarious felt like ice down Hoseok's back. It was easy to forget when Yoongi was fussing about the placement of the knife block or the tightness of a fitted sheet over his mattress that it wasn't really funny. Not at all. “It's not like you can't come visit or anything!”

“What if he doesn't want me to visit,” Jimin whispered. “What if he hates me?”

“I don't think he hates you. I don't think he _could._ ”

“He threw away my birthday cake,” Jimin pointed out, and Hoseok sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Look. Look, Jimin. He threw it away because it embarrassed him, probably. I don't think he meant to hurt your feelings. I don't think he wanted you to know about it because he _knows_ you're just gonna worry, okay? Yoongi-hyung is a big kid, he can take care of himself.”

Hoseok wasn't sure that was true. But he tried to make it seem so, anyway.

~

Hoseok managed to not be around for most of the next two weeks. Rehearsal for the show was getting intensive and he spent far too much time at the studio and by the time he got out his legs were so sore he could barely walk, never mind drive, so he didn't go and visit Yoongi at all. His messages were read and sometimes even replied to, with one word answers full of vague annoyance, but that was typical of Yoongi, so it didn't worry him very much. He didn't even worry when he heard through the grapevine that Jimin was moving out, that Yoongi had supported him and even offered to pay for the moving truck. _I'm not sure he's really okay,_ Taehyung had said during their phone conversation. _But it's not my place to tell him he's not, that's your job, hyung._

“When did I become Min Yoongi's handler,” Hoseok wondered to himself as he climbed up the stairs to the apartment, fumbling with his keys to find Yoongi's spare. Though he supposed it wasn't exactly _untrue._ He did spend an awful lot of time doing damage control for Yoongi and the rest of their friends, spent a lot of time silently reassuring his older friend that no one hated him, that none of them cared that he didn't like to drink or party or come out to the clubs with them. He spent an awful lot of time... Hoseok shook his head and continued up the stairs. He would strain his muscles until he wasn't thinking about it anymore.

It was so bright out, only noon, and Hoseok had gotten out early. The cast would be stuck in costumes for the rest of the day and he could take it off, take it easy, so of course he went to Yoongi's place and let himself in, frowning at how dark and hot it was inside the usually bright and open apartment.

“Hyung?” Hoseok called loudly, before slapping a hand over his mouth and using his deductive reasoning: Yoongi was solar-powered. He loved sunlight. Why would he close all the curtains? First possibility, he was depressed. Second, he was trying to sleep. Third, and most likely, he was—

Hoseok squinted into the dark of the living room and saw Yoongi on the floor near the balcony doors, face buried in his arms as he laid on the hardwood. Third, and most likely, he was suffering from a migraine, light-sensitive to the point of blindness and sound-sensitive to the point of vomiting. Hoseok had the misfortune of witnessing that only once, when he opened the curtains to Yoongi's room when they were still in high school and Yoongi had flung himself out of bed and thrown up, heaved for what felt like _hours_ even as his older bother came in and basically threw Hoseok out of his room, closed the curtains, and rubbed at Yoongi's back while he threw up and sobbed and threw up _more_ because the sound of his own voice was making his head explode into what he'd later described as puffs of blood and glitter and broken glass. Hoseok hadn't repeated the incident, and he'd been so careful. He'd even taught Jimin what to do, how to get the pills between Yoongi's clenched teeth and how he had to be on his side, because he might choke on them otherwise. Taught Jimin where to press his hands, to Yoongi's skinny neck and sternum to create warm points and release the tension that built up there.

Hoseok pulled off his shoes and made sure to close the front door as silently as he could, tip-toeing his way to Yoongi and very carefully pulling him up from the floor, shushing him quietly as he carried him into the bedroom and laid him down, fumbled in the nightstand for his medication. He managed to get the tablets into Yoongi's mouth and under his tongue with trembling fingers. Yoongi's lips were dry and his breathing was slow and shallow, like he was trying not to hear himself.

Hoseok slid up the bed and spooned behind Yoongi, his older friend's head caught against the curve of his own neck. He shuddered out a sigh of relief when he heard Yoongi swallow, when he felt Yoongi's skinny, trembling fingers near-helplessly grope for his.

~

Nearly a month and a half later, Yoongi was still Not Okay, didn't have any kind of closure or conversation with Jimin about what they were to one another now and frankly Hoseok'd had enough of it. He knocked on the door to Jimin and Jeongguk's apartment and waited for it to be answered, rocking back and forth on his heels. With his part in the show finished, he only had the morning classes with the kids and that left him with a lot of free time to watch Yoongi move around his mostly empty apartment like a ghost. Jimin hadn't come to visit. He hadn't come to visit and Hoseok could tell Yoongi was _devastated._ He spent more time in his room working, less time out in the bright living room or sleeping, he ate more tv dinners and drank less water and generally just took worse care of himself, so Jimin needed to go visit and assure him that he didn't hate him or something, that Jeongguk's dislike hadn't rubbed off.

“I don't _hate him,_ ” Jeongguk insisted, once they were all sitting down in the living room with bottles of water and a bag of cookies. “I don't. He hates me. We all know he hates me, he's hated me since _before_ we started dating.”

“He doesn't _hate_ you,” Jimin protested, running a hand through his hair. “He doesn't hate anyone! He's just... He's _delicate._ And you're kind of an asshole sometimes. _”_

“Am not,” Jeongguk sulked, and Jimin rolled his eyes, turned to Hoseok.

“Look, my senior recital is coming up. Do you think he'd come if I gave him an invitation?”

“I don't see why he wouldn't,” Hoseok said, chin in his hand. “He'd probably appreciate that you know he still exists.”

“I'm not _ignoring him,_ ” Jimin whined in protest. “I'm _busy._ ”

“I don't think it would kill you to send him a message every few days.”

“What's it matter to you, hyung,” Jeongguk asked, voice sharp. “You're acting like his mom. Or his boyfriend, jesus, why don't you just go spoon with him a while, he'll be fine.”

“You know we're not dating,” Hoseok replied.

“Mm-hm,” Jeongguk replied. “Sure you're not. Don't act like you're not fucking in love with each other like a pair of fucking twelve year olds.”

“Shut the _fuck up,_ ” he complained. “This is serious.”

Later, when he was alone, Hoseok spent a lot more time than he would ever admit to turning that statement over and over in his head, desperately searching for the lie in the words and hating that he was unable to find it.

~

“I can't go,” Yoongi was saying, looking down at the recital invitation in his hand. “I have a work thing that night.”

Hoseok squinted at Yoongi in great suspicion. “What kind of work thing?”

“A party,” Yoongi replied, raking a hand through his hair in a motion Hoseok recognized as frustration. “I can't get out of it either, I've already tried. You know how I feel about parties.”

Hoseok knew Yoongi's work was some big deal. He knew he worked for a big company or something, something huge where he had to hole up in his room and make music for ninety percent of his life, then go in once a month and present a bunch of stuff, but a party? He had to go to a party on the night of Jimin's recital. Sounded like bullshit to Hoseok.

“Why don't you just _not_ go?”

“Because the people that pay me are going to be there,” Yoongi almost snapped, putting the invitation on the counter and stalking into the living room to pace back and forth, lips red, nails biting into his neck. “I have to at least make an appearance but even if I get out early there's no way I'm going to make it back in time for Jimin's recital.” He hesitated, and Hoseok could see the ugly thought forming in the sneer of his lip and the furrow of his brow before he even spoke. He saw the black in Yoongi's chest like his skin and ribs were see-through. “Whatever. He has Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk is his _boyfriend,_ ” Hoseok protested. “You are his _friend,_ this is important to him!”  
“Whatever, why the fuck does it even matter to you, anyway,” Yoongi replied, voice strained.

“Yoongi, you can't just—”

“Please get out, Hoseok,” Yoongi said, and Hoseok fell silent. For a long moment it was as though time had stopped: Yoongi's fingernails in his forearms, standing twelve feet away but he'd never seemed so unreachable. Hoseok had never felt so stunned or helpless. Yoongi always welcomed him. Even if he had to put up a fuss about it first, he never really wanted him to leave, because if he wanted him to, he'd say so, he'd say so like he just had. _Get out, Hoseok._ “I can't—I can't deal with this right now, you need to leave.”

“Hyung—”

“ _Now,_ ” Yoongi said, and it was almost desperate. There was something close to a plead in his voice, something wavering and afraid. “Now, please, I promise we can talk about it later, we'll talk about it later, not now, _not now,_ Hoseok—”

“Okay,” Hoseok said, his voice cutting the air. “All right. I'll see you later.”

Hoseok closed the front door quietly after passing through it, but he made sure to let it last, draw it out. Made sure Yoongi could hear the finality in the lock latching closed. Let him stay in his apartment, alone and afraid. Let him fucking rot. Hoseok was not his keeper.

Hoseok owed him nothing.

~

Hoseok had thought it funny, a few months ago, that Yoongi maintained a constant aura of being untouchable, unimpressed, and mean. As he'd stood there and watched Yoongi pick out a birthday cake for Jimin (that he'd thrown in the trash just so jimin wouldn't see it, wouldn't feel guilty that Yoongi had gotten him something that wasn't really all that important but _meant_ something important) he'd thought about how hilarious it was, that he tried to act so tough when all he really wanted was for people to be soft with him and it seemed so obvious to Hoseok, seemed so clear cut.

But Yoongi had missed Jimin's recital, and Jimin's graduation, and changed the locks on his apartment, and hadn't come out to see any of them in weeks. Jimin had gone to visit and the door had remained unanswered; he'd tried to let himself in, but the lock had been changed. So he'd called Namjoon. Seokjin, Hoseok, and no one could get into the apartment. Phone calls and text messages bounced back, SNS notifications went unchecked.

The intensity of Yoongi's denial and emotions had been fucking hilarious, until it wasn't anymore.

“Hyung,” he said, his forehead against the door. “Hyung, I know you're in there, your car is downstairs and it wasn't this morning. Hyung. Yoongi-hyung, let me in. Let me in, please, I need to talk to you.” The only sound in the hallway was the elevator moving up and down and his own breathing. Hoseok stood there for longer than he'd ever admit, waiting, leaning into the hardwood and just... Wanting the door to open. This wasn't funny anymore, none of this was funny.

 _I think he liked Jimin,_ Seokjin had suggested gently, after a night of quiet drinking and complaining. _I think... He liked Jimin a lot, Hoseokah, he's a lot like you, you know. Don't you think that explains everything? Doesn't that... Give him a reason?_

Hoseok hadn't thought about it before but now as he looked back on it, yeah, it made sense. Yoongi was soft on Jimin and all of them knew it but as per usual, none of them knew _how_ soft. Soft enough to let him stay without paying rent, soft enough to buy him a birthday cake and then throw it away when Jimin didn't see it, in the hopes that he wouldn't ever see it. Explained why he disliked Jeongguk, despite the fact that they knew nearly nothing about one another and it explained...

It explained the locked door and unanswered messages. Hoseok wouldn't want to see the love of his life in someone else's arms, either. He wouldn't want to have their happiness shoved into his face at every opportunity, accidentally or not.

“Hyung,” Hoseok said, and his voice choked a bit. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. God, he hadn't even thought about Yoongi's feelings, he hadn't even thought about... That _Seokjin_ had to be the one to tell him, Seokjin, who saw Yoongi much, much less—

 _I'm just more objective,_ he'd said. _Hoseokah, it's only obvious to me since I'm not in the middle of it, you know?_

“Hyung,” he said again.

_He might have been in love with Jimin for a while, but Hoseokah_

“Hyeong.”

_Hoseokah, I think Jimin was just a replacement_

_I think he's in love with you._

“What do you want, Jung Hoseok,” came Yoongi's voice, hard and tight as he flung the door open and glared up at Hoseok with the venom of ten thousand blue-ringed octopi (small, deadly, delicate and beautiful) and waited for an answer.

“I need to talk to you,” Hoseok said, and Yoongi's glare tightened, especially between the brows. Hoseok watched his face contort into a _no_ and spoke before he could. “Please, Yoongi hyung, it's important, this is so important, please. Please let me in.”

It was just like Seokjin said. It was _just like Seokjin said._ Yoongi fought him for a moment but his resistance crumbled and he moved back into the apartment, dim-lit and cool. He turned away from Hoseok, wrapped his arms around himself and Hoseok both hated and praised Kim Seokjin for being able to deduce what Hoseok couldn't, what he couldn't figure out, being so close to the situation.

“What do you want.”

He looked so sick and so, so small. Thinner than he could spare, his hair long and dark in his eyes as he turned to look at Hoseok and Hoseok's heart broke into a thousand pieces. If it weren't for the fury and fear burning in his eyes Hoseok would have thought he was truly just... Ill. In need of medical attention. But knowing what he knew now, _knowing,_ made it clear Yoongi wasn't physically sick. Emotionally sick? Maybe. Heartsick? Absolutely.

Hoseok took two long strides and crowded Yoongi against the foyer wall as the door closed behind him. He didn't bother to take off his shoes as Yoongi squawked and brought up his hands to shove at Hoseok's chest, Hoseok let his arms cage the smaller man in. He dropped his head to Yoongi's narrow shoulder and just rested there. Yoongi fell still, and Hoseok felt his breath stop against his neck, felt his lips trembling against his hair where his face was turned.

“Hyung,” Hoseok said quietly, his arms shifting from bracing against the wall to wrapping around Yoongi's narrow waist. “Hyung, you should have said. You should have just _said._ ”

“Said what,” Yoongi snapped, even as Hoseok's hand slipped up to cup the back of his head and he stood up straight to look down at him. At his narrow eyes and pink cheeks, his flustered and fearful face. If Yoongi had only said in the beginning, if he'd only said years ago, _Hoseokah, would you move in with me?_ All of this could have been avoided. Yoongi's deflection of his emotions onto Jimin instead, his subsequent heartbreak when Jimin ended up with Jeongguk, his denial of his feelings in the first place. All of this could have been avoided with one simple fucking sentence but of course Yoongi hadn't thought about that. That was the simple way to do things and Min Yoongi was allergic to simple.

“You should have just said you were in love with me.”

“ _What—”_

Hoseok bent to kiss Yoongi's mouth and for a moment he was terrified he was wrong. That Seokjin was wrong, Namjoon and Jimin were wrong but when Yoongi shoved him away it wasn't far enough to rip his grip out of Hoseok's jacket. After a moment that lasted a thousand years Yoongi gasped for air ( _Hoseok,_ he said) and dragged Hoseok back down and against the foyer wall. Hoseok felt a sun burst into being, bright and beautiful and blinding like Yoongi's happy-unhappy smile, the one he was kissing away from his face.

 


End file.
